


Let's Play Dress-Up

by FreckledSkittles



Series: 2019 Barisi ~Spooktober~ [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Crossdressing, Halloween Costumes, Koala Bearba and Sonny Giraffesi, M/M, Married Barisi, Married Couple, Minor Violence, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, and rafael barba is an even better freddie mercury, i mean theyre already married so, i will die on this hill, oops gonna make a new tag, sonny carisi makes a beautiful cher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Cher and Freddie Mercury walk into a bar. It's time to fight prejudices and kick some ass.Or: Sonny and Rafael go undercover for SVU and look good doing it.





	Let's Play Dress-Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of my ~spooky~ fics! It's a bit more on board with the theme of Halloween, in that Sonny and Rafael have two Halloween costumes, one for an undercover operation and the other for fluffs and cuddles. I had so much fun writing this, especially because I haven't written so much of a case fic before, and I had the time of my life doing it!
> 
> Shoutout to mforpaul for directly encouraging me to write mustached Rafael (who you know is a Freddie Mercury stan) so I can give the people what they deserve; and for soul_writerr for indirectly encouraging me to write Sonny with makeup after she posted [this masterpiece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146966) where Sonny wears makeup and is an overall pretty boy 😘
> 
> Now, with that being said, here is the second edition of ~spooky~ season Barisi! <3 I hope you enjoy!

Sonny cards through the rack of costumes in the middle of the bullpen, idly looking through an outfit while the rest of the squad talks behind him. They’ve had a creep targeting people who dare express their sexuality, beginning at the end of June and pausing in early July and coming back for October. SVU is well aware of the pattern–always in pairs, no exceptions on race, gender or sexuality—and already has a plan to arrest the bastard behind it. He only attacks in pairs, most commonly a couple out on a date, and a suspected second person has worked with him throughout October to make sure no one catches him. Unfortunately, the two UCs they had assigned were out with illnesses: one had the flu, who Sonny refused to even talk to; the other caught lice from her kid and assured them of the quarantine measures that she had taken. Liv had to remove them both off the case, Mike handled any backlash from the higher-ups that they weren’t doing enough, and the squad had yet to find new UCs for the mission.

Sonny, of course, volunteered immediately. He always enjoyed the process of undercover work, posing as a different person, working in secret for justice. His husband always got scared when he had to go under for long periods of time, but thankfully, he hasn’t had the need to do an extensive gig—more than forty-eight hours—since the end of last year.

This is one night. There’s a small possibility that anything could go wrong.

“I think we should have a couple go in,” Nick insists. He stands in front of the screen and gestures to the list of people hurt by the perp. “This guy attacks in pairs. The one time he had one victim on the same night was July, and only because he nearly got caught.”

“And,” Amanda tags in, almost from the same sentence, “if two of us can tempt him, that limits the chance that he’ll get someone else.”

“Exactly!” Liv and Mike, leaning against one of the desks, share a look of concern, which only spurs the duo on even more. Amanda rolls her eyes while Nick continues; “We already have plans for two UCs. We shouldn’t waste that.”

Sonny picks out a sequined jumpsuit that’s just his size and holds it against his front. “How’s this?” He asks, gaining the attention of the room. It’s covered in sequins from collar to bell-bottoms, but he knows the earthy green color would be flattering on him. Unfortunately, the silence tells him more than their words could, and he puts it back on the rack with a shrug. “Fine. Your loss. I look great in jumpsuits.”

“I’m sure you do,” Liv sighs. She stands up when Fin enters with two files in hand, both from CSU. “Any luck?”

Fin grins and hands the files over. “The theme of the party is ‘famous singers,’” he says. “TARU has the van parked a block away from the club. And since I heard you arguing about it,” he adds with a nod to Sonny, “you might wanna pair Carisi up with someone. Because of the attacks, they aren’t letting anyone in without a partner.”

Sonny perks up when he hears his name and frowns. “That’s a pretty limited theme, don’t you think?”

Fin shrugs. “Maybe it’s for security too. The bartender thinks they know the guy who did this, so if they play into his interests, they can catch him before anything happens.”

Mike leans back in his chair and looks around the room. “Alright, so who’s going with Carisi?”

Sonny trots over to throw his arms around Mike’s neck teasingly. The Sergeant’s cheeks turn red almost instantly. “Why don’t you join me? We can play up our favorite gay stereotypes.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Amanda chimes in, smirking impishly. “You two haven’t been on a date in a long time.”

Mike chuckles good-naturedly but removes Sonny’s arms from his shoulders. “I doubt any of those clothes would fit me. But I’ll help you play into the stereotype.”

Sonny pouts and shoves his shoulder, walking back to the rack of outfits. “C’mon, Mike, I’ll let you be Judy this time.”

“Or Cher,” Nick adds, pointing to the giant headdress resting on Amanda’s desk, alongside the multitude of wigs and headwear. “About ninety percent of these costumes can make any one of the female singers who are icons for the queer community.”

“What’s this talk about icons for the queer community?” Rafael asks, strolling into the bullpen with his usual quick stride. The full cup of coffee in his hand is typical of his image; the yellow jacket, white jumpsuit, and mustache are not. Sonny grins when he sees him and leans down to share a kiss with his husband despite the teasing whistles from behind them. Rafael hums into their kiss and presses their foreheads together. “I hope you’re not planning our next trivia night because I will demolish all of you if that’s a category.”

Nick laughs and shakes his head. “We expect nothing less from you, Mister Mercury.”

Rafael steps away from Sonny to cock his hip out and grin. “You like it, _ compay_? I’ve been waiting ten months to wear this outfit. Carisi sibling Halloween party,” he adds as an explanation. He steps closer to his husband so he can toy with his tie and straighten his collar. “I heard about the UCs—”

Sonny groans and rests his head on Rafael’s shoulder, mostly joking but also dreading whatever his husband has to say. “Of course you did.”

“Just because I’m the Bureau Chief for hate crimes doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about my old unit.” Rafael pinches his arm to get him looking up again. “And as the spouse to a detective transferring to the DA’s office next month, I have a right to be worried.”

Sonny feels a bit guilty for the grief he had given him, but only because he knows Rafael’s concern comes from the heart. Going undercover came with the job, and they had made their peace with that long ago. But it was always the risky ones—the ones where Sonny could be hurt for his sexuality, minor or otherwise, even after being out and married for all these years—that gets to Rafael.

An idea sparks in his head, taking in all the information he’s received for the evening and swirling it together, and he gathers the words to voice it as he strides across the room and looks at the files Fin had brought in. “We can’t go in without a partner, you said?” He asks. Fin nods. “And the theme is famous singers. Good.” He looks up from the file and grins at Rafael, already dressed as one of the most talented singers of all time, who tilts his head in confusion for a brief moment before being flooded with realization. “Good thing you’re already dressed for it. Be my partner.”

“Sonny—” He begins to protest, but he’s beaten to it by Olivia.

“That’s too dangerous,” she says, curt and firm in her stance. “We’re already risking it with the UCs and one of our own who’s weeks away from transferring.”

“Not to mention,” Mike adds, and a bubble of offense rises in Sonny’s chest at the betrayal, “Rafael is considered a citizen, not a cop. It would be reckless to put him out there.”

“We’ve done it before,” Sonny points out. “I mean, how many times have victims or witnesses staged scenes?”

“Technically, we never asked them to do that, and not all of them have ended successfully.”

“If you need someone,” Rafael pipes in, eyes trained on the floor, “I can do it. I don’t have any complaints.” He raises his hands in the air when everyone in the room turns to look at him. “Honest. I’d want to be with Sonny anyway. We kill two birds with one stone.”

Sonny gestures to his husband and looks at Liv, who bows her head and massages her temple. “See? He’s willing.”

“Plus,” Rafael adds, stepping over to wrap an arm around Sonny, “if the theme is ‘famous singers,’ and you plan on walking into a half-queer crowd with your best costume, all of you are going to be severely underdressed. I’m already dressed for the part and look better at it.” He pairs the remarks with a wink. If the combination of all of that wasn’t enough to change their minds, then nothing would.

Sure enough, Liv lets out a long breath and stands up straight. “The second we see something wrong, we’re pulling you both out.”

“That’s fair,” Sonny says. He gazes down at Rafael, who only pats his cheek and smiles at him. He has no issues with that plan; Rafael is all he needs anyway. “Let’s play dress-up, shall we?”

* * *

An hour later, once they wrangle together a rough outline of the night, Sonny runs through different outfits for his costume. Nothing speaks to him, though there are a few pieces that would look nice on their own and not with the set, so he just rifles through the rack while Amanda and Mike chat behind him. Nick and Fin went back to the club to check in with TARU and help with any preparation. Rafael was off with Liv, squaring away some papers or gossiping, or both, and was due back in a few minutes to make sure his husband’s outfit was done with at least his lover’s input. (Even though he wasn’t the only queer person on the squad, and both Amanda and Mike identified somewhere on the queer spectrum, Rafael didn’t trust anyone’s fashion sense. He still brought up Amanda’s early days as a detective that resembled a lesbian lumberjack stereotype, which was exaggerated, and he claimed Mike had as much fashion sense as Sonny did, which was fair.)

“Do you know how big your head is?” Amanda asks abruptly, holding up a long black wig. “This might fit you.”

Mike grabs a mirror, and with a bit of finagling with the wig cap, Sonny slides the wig on. It needs to be pinned in place, maybe styled across his shoulders, but it fits him nicely. He can’t help but grin at the way his face is framed, the stark contrast of pale skin to jet-black locks. If he’s going to look that good, his outfit will have to be even better.

“If you had a better theme, you could totally pull off Morticia Addams,” Mike smirks. Sonny laughs and smacks his arm. “Or Elvira.”

“I don’t have enough chest for that,” he laments.

“You probably could,” Amanda points out to Mike, and she and Sonny high-five over their Sergeant’s head.

Rafael and Liv return from her office a few minutes later, and he joins Sonny at the rack of costumes. It looks a bit more natural, coming from him; he and Sonny never assigned gender roles to either of their identities, but Rafael had always been the better dresser. It was second nature for him. For Sonny, it was more like a second language he had to take refresher courses every now and again to keep his memory fresh.

“Raf, what color should I go with?” He asks after the third outfit that fails to match his wig. To keep it clean, and so Amanda could straighten it out, he had taken the wig off and only had an outfit to decide on.

“It doesn’t matter what color you’re going for,” Rafael points out. He pulls out a dress with a Union Jack on the front and holds it against his husband. “Focus on who you want to be.”

Sonny grins and puts the dress back. “How about the real costumes I got us for tonight?” Their initial plans for the night, before the undercover operation had disrupted their plans, involved Carisi family bonding for dinner and then horror movies and cuddling in onesies. Rafael almost rejected the latter offer, but when he saw the soft pajamas, there was little he could turn down. Going through his late-forties and he was agreeing to an animal onesie. This man really made him twenty years younger.

Rafael gives him a pitiful smile and pats his cheek. “Just a few hours and we can get there. So,” he holds up a checkered leotard that cuts down low to his naval, “should we be a tag-team Freddie?”

“I dunno, there were some strong reactions the last time I had a mustache.”

“Oh come on, he didn’t have the mustache during that tour.” Rafael puts the leotard back, although the way he eyes it says that he wants to wear it more than anything, and resumes his search. “But I know you want to keep that black wig.”

Sonny shrugs, posing as nonchalant, though his husband probably sees right through it. He looks good with it, he _ feels _ good in it, and he knows he can find an outfit that looks just as striking. “I mean, yeah, it’s a nice wig.”

Rafael simpers and glances up at him. “Sure. You look at that wig like you look at me.”

“Gimme more credit than that, Raf.” Sonny eyes the new set of clothes that is reeled in and checks out a bright yellow outfit caught between two short dresses. The top is cropped halfway, so his midriff would definitely be displayed, but the fabric is loose and airy. The hem and collar are bejeweled with sequins, complete with a square pattern spread out on the rest of the shirt. The skirt shares the same design, but it brings the sequins down the center. Something about the outfit—maybe it’s the color, how it looks like it’s made of actual sunshine, or the fabric falling light against his fingers—calls to him. The tag on the hanger reads “Cher,” and an excited thrill runs up his spine. He didn’t think he could pull off a look from a legend like that, but he wanted to wear it more than anything he had seen.

“I like this,” he says. He lifts the hanger off the rack and holds it against him. It might look a bit odd since it’s not initially made for his height, but with a few adjustments, he can look like a proper celebrity. “Let’s try it.”

It takes both Mike and Amanda to help him position it right, leveling the skirt so that enough of his stomach was showing but it didn’t dangle off his hips. Once it settles, and the three of them were satisfied, and the wig slides into place, Sonny can’t help but admire himself in the full-length mirror they had brought out. October in New York didn’t have forgiving weather, but he should be fine with a coat and scarf. It was going to be difficult to hide his gun and badge. He does a quick spin and smiles when the fabric moves in perfect rhythm with him. He’s definitely going to enjoy this.

“We’re giving you a bag to hold your badge and gun,” Mike says, packing both into a small brown satchel that came right out of the 70s. “Do not lose sight of this. You might need to use either of them if this whole thing goes south.”

“I know, Sarge,” Sonny assures him with a smile. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but the squad will be with him at all times, and Rafael will be right there with him. “This isn’t my first time.”

“When you said your husband can pass as Freddie Mercury,” Amanda smirks, nodding to Rafael downing the remainder of his coffee, “I thought it was a joke. He looks _ too _ good.”

Sonny rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh. “It’s all from experience. Once in college. Once at a gay bar in Brooklyn when he lost his first case. Once on a dare with Rita Calhoun.” He snorts when Amanda leans into his line of sight, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Long story. Don’t ask. What happens in Brooklyn, yeah?”

“Keep it in Brooklyn.”

Rafael tosses the coffee into the trash and glances at them, but he does a quick double-take and hurries over when he realizes Sonny is dressed and just about ready. His fingers trace gently against the black wig sitting on his head, mesmerized by the sight of it, and he grips his shoulder carefully to rummage the fabric. His voice is caught between his throat when he speaks; “Wow. Married for how many years and you never told me how good you look as Cher.”

Sonny grins and pulls him close for a kiss. If they were going to ogle each other like teenagers, then he deserved a chance to share too. Every second he could look at his ass in the skin-tight white jumpsuit or the curve of his body shaped in loud yellow, and every time his gaze followed the sneaky peep of his chest, blessed with dark curly hair, he has to bite back the urge to pull him close and ravish him. “I knew how good you looked as Freddie Mercury, but it still blows my mind.” He pulls the bodysuit and lets it snap against Rafael’s skin, smirking at the deep chuckle. “You ready to go?”

Rafael admires him for one last moment and backs away with a wink. “I’m ready. Let’s get your shoes on and get to work.”

* * *

It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the club hosting the costume party. Sonny, now fully done up with makeup and the final touches to his outfit, feels his nerves wash away every time he looks at Rafael or when part of the wig brushes across his back. Even with the camouflage of a heavier coat, he can crane his neck for a peek at chest hair, steal a look at the way the jumpsuit hugs his figure. He was so comfortable in it, striding across the pavement as if he was the legendary singer himself. Sonny is convinced that whoever made that jacket knew it would be worn by someone who could work the piece for hours and not break a sweat.

“You should not be wearing heels like that,” Rafael teases as they walk up the block from TARU’s van to the club. Sonny initially pouts at the comment; he had picked the shoes out himself. They made him a bit taller, but they made his legs look good, the skirt always allowing a glimpse inside and nothing more.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like you were born to wear them.”

Sonny bites back a groan—more for his squad’s sake than anything. They were going to get an earful tonight about their entire relationship if they weren’t careful. “That’s because I was.”

Rafael purrs at the remark as they get in line. He twirls their fingers together and presses his palm close. He had styled his hair a bit more wild, letting the longer strands stick out and fall where they wanted. The black along the edges of his eyes made the hazel in his irises pop more than usual. “It’s a real shame you never got the chance to wear the costume for the party with your sisters.”

Sonny shrugs and swings their hands lightly between them. “They understand. And I promised I’d make it up with a movie night soon,” he adds, which Rafael groans and rolls his eyes at, “so don’t get rid of this.”

“Do you even know me, Mister Barba-Carisi?” Rafael retorts. “I look good as Freddie, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I didn’t, Mister Barba-Carisi, now if you could hold your sass back before I cover your entire neck in lipstick.”

“You say that like I don’t want you to.”

“_Alright, guys, let’s focus on the costume party,_” Liv chides them. There are a few accompanying snickers and teasing remarks made by the rest of the squad before the connection peters out.

Rafael scoffs; the line to the club moves a bit and they walk forward. There are two other couples in front of them so the wait shouldn’t be much longer. “Do you think your work wife is responsible for that?”

“Almost as much as I think your _ compay _ is.” He smirks when Rafael whips around and glowers at him. “Hey, I’m just saying. We both made poor choices in work spouses.”

“I don’t see Nick enough to be married to him. And you at least have Mike.”

“_Are your earpieces malfunctioning?_” Liv’s voice cuts through. Sonny grins, more accepting of the giddy feeling they have for misbehaving.

They step up to the bouncer, receiving compliments on their respective outfits, and walk into a crowded bar. From the looks of it, between the start of the party two hours before and their arrival, the night is still going strong with partygoers, pairs and couples, and a steady round of drinks from bartenders dressed as Rocky Horror characters.

“You want some fries?” Rafael asks, using their code for the night to check on each other and to confirm their condition with the squad.

“I can go for a snack, sure,” Sonny nods. He had worn heels before but he hadn’t had to stand in them for a period of time. His feet were starting to ache, and if he wanted to wear them for the entire night, he would have to sit.

They grab a seat at a bar, and Rafael orders them drinks and fries while Sonny scopes out the dance floor. There’s a good-sized crowd, a sea of color for the numerous costumes and celebrators for Halloween. It’s not surprising that a good number of the patrons are dressed as female singers—one person even did Cher with a replica of the famous headdress from another Academy Awards, and there are at least two Freddie Mercury costumes. The bar sits on the outskirts of Greenwich Village, and two of the attacks were on people leaving this club or the one a few blocks east. It’s not very big, though, and it has a fairly diverse crowd that it caters to. The attack could happen to anyone. Their plan, as they had discussed, was to get themselves recognized enough that they gathered attention from the unknown suspect.

Sonny makes the first move when they’re waiting for their drinks: he sidles up next to Rafael and drags his fingers along the base of his spine, right under the jacket, close enough to his weak spot but far away enough to tease. Rafael leans back and purrs at the contact, his shoulders rising in satisfaction as he leans against the bar and stretches into the motion. Sonny grins and leans over to peck his cheek, his cheeks hurting from how hard he beams at the light mark his lipstick leaves behind. If they weren’t working, he would drop light brown splotches all over his neck and face. Maybe later.

“I like your ass in those pants,” he whispers. Rafael smirks in response. “You pull off Mercury so well.”

“I thought we were going to keep it PG for our audience,” Rafael chides, loud enough for the two of them to hear, thankfully covered by the club’s speakers.

“I’m complimenting your costume, not undressing you.”

“Your gaze says otherwise.” Sonny pokes his thigh with a huff. Their fries and drinks are delivered—just soda, to keep up with appearances—and Rafael smiles past his glass. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

Sonny nudges him in return. With the heels, he’s only three inches taller—finally taller than Mike—but it mismatches his height difference with Rafael more than the difference is already present. He ends up bumping his ass into Rafael’s hip, earning a jealous stare over the glass’s rim in the process. God, they seriously did flirt by bugging each other, didn’t they?

“I will say,” Rafael adds, munching on a fry, “I think I rock the mustached look better than you.”

Sonny smirks. “You wanna bet? I’ll grow it back.”

“_Please don’t do that,_” Nick begs over their earpieces. “_Spare us, Barba, please._”

“_Someone fitting the suspect’s description just got in line for the club,_” Mike announces. “_Short, blond hair, tank top. You can play it up whenever you want._”

“Like we need negotiating,” Rafael chuckles, and he grabs Sonny’s chin when he swoops in and kisses the air right out of his chest. The way he holds his chin is tender, but his lips sculpt over his quick and fast, sliding over his mouth and suckling on his tongue. Sonny moans and sinks into his chair when his hips are grabbed, right over the hem of his skirt, and his skin flares. From the angle of anyone entering the bar, they would pass as another couple making out. But a few more shifts and Sonny’s body would be on display: the gold fabric of his clothing sparkling in the dim lighting, eyes shut so delicately to allow glimmering eye shadow the chance to shine, his abdomen revealed from the crop top that ends right below his pectoral muscles, the black locks from the wig tumbling over his shoulder, striking against the gold of his outfit and the pale tone of his skin. The way he’s sitting on the stool, leaning back against the bar, not only gives Rafael perfect access but outlines the length of his body and provides the slightest sneak peek of the long, pale legs hidden by the airy folds of the skirt.

Rafael moves off of his lips, though not without a few shy pecks, and slides over his jaw and to his neck. He only applies small pressure points to the shape of his muscle and the curve of his neck, teeth skirting over his pulse for temptation’s sake. The hairs of the mustache tickle his sin, small brushes that soothe his nerves and make him relax. If he thought the scratch of his jaw from lack of shaving was pleasant, this was even more so, even if it wasn’t real. The sensations are teetering on overwhelming, and Sonny bucks closer to his hands and stops short of begging for his attention right then and there. They have a job to do, they have a perp to catch—they have to keep it tame. So he just breathes out at every flat press of tongue against his skin, shuts his eyes at every teasing point of canines, waggles his hips at every slow palm up the curve of his body, a gradual and tantalizing appreciation of his midriff.

“I should wear crop tops more often,” he muses softly. Rafael chuckles against him, and the sound echoes off his neck. Sonny just barely bites back a shiver. “Seriously. I look amazing in this.”

“I have no objections,” Rafael hums.

“If it gets your attention like this, I might have to get another.”

“Do you now.” He moves away—Sonny immediately hates the chilling separation between them—and smiles so warm and inviting, Sonny is thankful that he has a stool to prop himself up. Rafael’s smile could knock him out. “I can see the benefit of it. This look suits you.”

“I’ll wear them more if you wear jumpsuits.”

Rafael snorts at that and shakes his head. “I can’t make any promises. But we can go shopping for crop tops soon.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Counselor?”

“I know, it’s rather bold of me, but I think there’s something special between us and I would love to get to know you better.”

“_Jesus Christ,_” Amanda groans, “_someone knock me out so I don't have to listen to this._”

“Mm,” Sonny beams, lowering his eyes just for Rafael and adjusting the lapel of his jacket, “jealousy.”

Someone taps on Rafael’s shoulder, and they both look up to see a short blond man eyeing Sonny in a mixture of hunger and disgust. The way he barely acknowledges Rafael and the tank top Mike described—was he even trying to dress up—tells him this could be their guy. They were alluring just enough to grab his attention—or, rather, Sonny was. He was the one in a crop top and skirt, wearing makeup that was much too stunning and a black wig that was much too long. He dared to walk outside like that and live his life. Something in Sonny churns, a rather familiar fear that he could be hated for being himself, but he feels it break apart when Rafael sneakily grabs his hand, keeping their entwined fingers out of sight.

“Can I help you?” Rafael asks, innocent enough to be taken as a genuine question.

The man barely looks at Rafael, staying trained on Sonny like an arrow lined up for a bullseye. “Yeah, ah, you look beautiful. That’s one of Cher’s dresses from the Oscars, right?”

Sonny grins innocently; “Yeah, it is, thanks.” He sits up straight on the stool to properly show off his abdomen. There’s no way he isn’t grabbing this man’s attention. His eyes are all over his shoulders, around his navel, lingering on his face and the wisps of black strands that hang in front of his eyes. “You a fan of hers?”

“I dabble in filmmaking.” He looks at Rafael, as if noticing him for the first time, and nods in greeting. Rafael just smiles. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Not at all.” He makes a show of detaching his hand from Sonny’s to hold out to him. “Rafael. This is Sonny, my date.”

“Caleb. Nice to meet both of you.” His eyes fall on the subtle vee of Rafael’s jumpsuit, wrapping around the curls of hair contrasting against the white fabric, and he idly licks his lips when his gaze roves up back to his eyes. “You come here regularly? I haven’t seen you guys before.”

“_He’s intrigued,_” Liv points out in their ears. “_Get him to sit down with you._”

“It’s our first time, actually,” Sonny explains. Rafael offers his spot for Caleb, who takes it with a thankful smile, and stands between Sonny’s legs. Close enough for reassurance and just enough to entice whatever urges this man might have. The more they play up their partnership, the better. “Our friend told us all about the costume parties.”

“I was a bit cautious, though,” Rafael sighs, resting a hand on Sonny’s shirt. “There’s been so many attacks lately—”

“Aw, you’re just a worrywart.” Sonny soothes the act with a peck and looks at Caleb when he pulls him by his hips. “I always tell him there’s nothing to worry about. Our neighbor, Mike, is a cop, and he loves to give us the dirt.”

Rafael chuckles. “Mike’s also a bit eccentric.” Sonny only shrugs and takes a sip of Coke.

“_That’s what you get for not playing dress-up with them_,” Amanda chides.

“_I deserve that much, I guess_,” Mike grumbles.

“Can I get you a drink, Caleb?” Rafael asks.

“That’d be lovely,” Caleb nods. He orders a beer and winks at the bartender, who rolls his eyes and slides the open beer bottle across the counter. “What do you guys do for a living?”

“Sonny here is an artist,” Rafael grins, which only grows when Sonny bows his head bashfully and chuckles into his shoulder. “Always doodling away on notepads or sculpting in the basement.” He leans forward for Caleb to hear, “They’re beautiful, really. The way he captures the human form in marble…” He trails off and sighs wistfully, leaning into Sonny’s embrace around his waist. “It’s truly poetic.”

Sonny watches the telling signs of irritation sprout in Caleb’s brow, accompanying a small twitch in his jaw, but nothing more. He hates their conversation topic. There’s no way he isn’t the one orchestrating the attacks. “I never got into art much,” Caleb admits, and his smile covers up his true intentions perfectly. “But, ah, I’m always glad to hear that someone found a passion for it.”

“Don’t worry, I used to feel the same.” It always surprises him how good Rafael is at getting to the heart of the issue for these perps. He knows what makes them tick, the pleasures they relish in, the right amount of pressure to provide a relatable identity for whatever makes them tick. The courtroom is his domain, but he can pull it off in the field just as well. “What’s the point of making it when we already have the real things in front of us?”

Caleb shifts and hums in interest. The praise that comes over their earpieces is soothing to know they’re on the right track to getting this guy. “I guess some of us couldn’t get into it.”

“It took me a while, but I see the point of it.” Rafael looks at Sonny with a smile that melts him from the heart outward. “We go by and lose sight of things. It’s good to have a reminder of the beauty in life.”

Sonny kisses him, warm and familiar and comforting. Rafael is nearly sitting in his lap, his head tilting for better access, the brush of the fake mustache rubbing against his cheek. The beat of the music pulses against the stool and the bar, a rolling rhythm that massages his back, right under the hem of the crop top. It’s a nice final touch for their plan.

“_As heartwarming as this is,_” Fin cuts in, “_you need to watch out. Caleb’s on the move._”

Rafael moves away first, giving a short groan into his cheek and tilting his head for Sonny to kiss and mark as he liked. The pleasing sound that slips from his throat is more a courtesy than anything. “Bathroom.”

“Cameras should cover him,” Sonny whispers. His hands trace up the yellow jacket and get under the lapels to slide it off his shoulders. It hangs at his elbows, drooped down low enough to show off Rafael’s bare arms and the jumpsuit’s plunge of a neckline. Perfect for kissing, which Sonny places all over any inch of skin in his line of sight.

“_He went into the bathroom,_” Mike informs them, followed by a few clicks. “_Do we have eyes on our second guy?_”

“_Working on it,_” Nick says.

“_Check in with the bartender, you two,_” Fin advises. “_The one dressed as Frank N. Furter. He’s been keeping an eye on things for us._”

Sonny takes a few more fries from their basket and nods to the bartender in question, the same one who served them earlier and has been lingering by them. He props his bag up on the counter so he can grab his lipstick and makes a small show of providing the tip of his badge, just enough to prove who they are. The bartender relaxes immediately, shoulders sagging. “Quiet night for you?”

“As quiet as it can be,” he replies. “Nothing out of the ordinary though.” He nods in the direction Caleb went. “You recognize him from anywhere?”

“He looked a bit familiar,” Rafael says. “Couldn’t place where, though.”

The bartender nods and starts to prepare a drink for another patron. “Look hard enough. I think you’ll figure it out.”

It’s subtle, but Sonny has complete faith that if anyone were to fit the description of their perp, it would be Caleb “Thanks, we’ll do that,” Sonny responds and stands with a toss of hair over his shoulder. “Bathroom, love?”

Rafael smiles. “Lead the way. You need to apply some of your lipstick.” He gestures to his neck, covered in perfect smooches, some of them falling on the white of his jumpsuit’s collar, and Sonny can’t take his eyes off how nice it looks. Rafael can pull off bright colors without a problem, but the way he wears darker shades, showing off every curve and form of his body, dries his throat within seconds. “I think I took some of it off.”

“Just some?” Sonny teases with a laugh and leads them to the bathroom, arm crooked with his husband’s.

“_Be careful_,” Liv warns. “_Someone else is making a beeline for the bathrooms._”

The duo maintains their composure until they reach the small hallway leading to the bathrooms. Sonny is thankful Rafael is here with him, even if it puts them both at risk, but the operation has gone smoothly because of them. His stomach only plummets a little when they go to open the bathroom door and Caleb beats them to it, standing in their way.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Rafael smiles, but it drops when he eyes the knife that is clearly brandished in his hand. “Oh, hey, that—”

“You think you can get away looking like that?” He glares at them. “Just come out of the house with this on?” Before either of them can react, the man grabs Sonny and hauls him close, the blade of the knife pointing at his bare midriff. Rafael swallows; the look of fear on his face is not part of their undercover mission. “No one asked for this. No one wants to see this.”

“_That’s all we need,_” Mike says, frantic and rushed. “_We’re heading in._”

“Take it easy,” Sonny whispers to Caleb. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“We’re just here for the costume party,” Rafael says, the small quiver to his voice making Sonny’s gut drop even more. “That’s all.”

“Party’s over.” Caleb nods behind him, and the second man grabs Rafael by the arm and hauls him back against the wall. Caleb starts to move inside the bathroom, but Sonny steps on his foot with the heel of his shoe and wrangles the hand holding the knife away from him. The perp had cried out when the heel dug into his foot, but he crumbles to the ground when Sonny aims his other foot heel-first into his crotch.

“No,” Sonny pants, “only for you.” He pulls out his gun and badge, both of which make Caleb groan. “NYPD. You’re both under arrest.” He faces his husband, standing much closer to him now that the second man is bent over, clutching a bleeding nose and grumbling over an aching gut. Rafael always knew how to aim an elbow.

“He got blood on my jacket,” he frowns, gesturing to the arm of his jacket. It isn’t their biggest concern, definitely an attempt to lighten the mood, but he’s soothed when Sonny pecks his forehead and pulls him in for a hug. In some way, he’s grateful they won’t have anymore risky undercover missions.

Nick and Amanda handcuff the two and haul them out of the club. The bartender comes around to thank them thoroughly. Olivia flanks both Sonny and Rafael when they walk out of the club, arms wrapped around each other.

“Good work, you two,” she says, much more relaxed now that their suspects are in custody. “You two did great in there.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Sonny grins. “I think I looked pretty good doing it too.”

Liv chuckles and pats his shoulder. “You definitely did. I think this is the first time I’ve seen a cop take someone down with high heels and a black wig.”

“And a crop top.” Rafael’s fingers run over his bare skin the moment his clothing is mentioned, and Sonny pecks his temple for reassurance. He can read the unease on his face, the worry that this night will change him for the worse. “That guy thinks he can tell people what to do or how to dress. I’m happy to put him away.”

The smile Liv gives them tells him that she knows what he’s referring to, and she grabs Rafael’s free hand and squeezes. “Why don’t you two go home? We can take care of things here.”

“You sure?” He isn’t leaving Rafael’s side even if he wanted to, but it never hurts to double-check.

“As much as I would love to have you with us, I think it’ll be a bit difficult to separate you two.” She winks at them and steps back to return to the rest of the squad. “Get some rest. Enjoy your night.”

Rafael, probably the longest he’s gone without saying anything, silently curls his arms around Sonny’s waist and buries his face in his shoulder. There are more important matters for them now.

* * *

Sonny walks out of the bathroom to Rafael—dressed in the koala onesie Sonny had bought him—rearranging the pillows on their couch. Now that work was settled, they were ready to cuddle until they fell asleep and watch movies until their eyes hurt. When he hears him come in, Rafael straightens up and looks at him, and he starts laughing under his breath. “You’re keeping the lips on, huh?”

“What, you don’t like it?” Sonny pouts. He only reapplied the lipstick because it was a brown that matched the spots of his giraffe onesie. They weren’t going anywhere, and only a few kids had stopped by for candy. The only thing he had planned was cuddling so close to Rafael, he would have to wear the koala onesie. Sonny nods to his neck, which peeks out from the gray pajamas and reveals the stains of dark brown and red he had left behind. “Your neck thinks differently.”

“Objection, prejudicial.”

“Objection, non-responsive.”

Rafael smirks and beckons him over. Sonny pads over and places a loud smooch on his cheek, reapplying and enhancing the one he had left before. “You better pull those moves in the courtroom when you get put on a case.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He smirks and nuzzles against his jaw. “All your teasing has done me some good.”

“Teasing, eh?” Rafael drops his hands to fall on his ass, and Sonny bucks back into the squeezing fingers. “I thought we were beyond that song and dance.”

“Well, we _ were _ gonna have our first date shopping for crop tops.”

“Oh, of course, I almost forgot. We’ll get eight pairs. One for each day,” he tugs Sonny down for a quick peck, sighing when Sonny grabs the back of his onesie and presses against him, “and one for nights like these.”

“The ones where we take down discriminatory perps in high heels and a mustache?”

“That was all you.”

“Nah.” Sonny ducks into his line of sight and grins, warm and reassuring. “That was both of us. You spurred him on. You were the one who kept his attention on us.” Rafael scoffs, but Sonny presses on, holding his hands and kissing his knuckles. “We kicked some ass tonight.”

Rafael smiles and adjusts the right ear of his giraffe onesie, playfully flicking the horn-like protrusion beside it. “We did. I’d do it again.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I can stay a cop—”

Rafael securely wraps his arms around him—only proving his koala tendencies even more—and tugging his giraffe-sized husband down to the couch, kissing him and laughing into each one. Sonny laughs and is already marking up the spots on his neck he hasn’t touched. As if he hasn’t already kissed Rafael for being safe, for being supportive, and for being by his side, no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> [Sonny's outfit](https://hips.hearstapps.com/hbz.h-cdn.co/assets/17/08/1487863665-hbz-cher-oscars-tbt-1973-gettyimages-139125347.jpg?crop=1.0xw:1xh;center,top&resize=480:*)
> 
> [Rafael's outfit](https://www.michigandaily.com/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/190422/Screen%20Shot%202019-04-22%20at%206.26.12%20PM.png?itok=y6lecTQl)
> 
> Koala Bearba grappling onto Sonny Giraffesi, Queen references, or riding. If you see one or all of these, you know who wrote it 😎😎😎


End file.
